


A Moment of Happiness

by CurufinweAtarinke



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen, Good Dad Fëanor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 04:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17036291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurufinweAtarinke/pseuds/CurufinweAtarinke
Summary: Fëanor sketches.





	A Moment of Happiness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shinyforce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyforce/gifts).



> Done for a tumblr prompt.

The golden light of Laurelin warms Fëanáro as he sits at the wrought iron table on the patio and sketches.

Fëanáro is a prolific artist, not just in the forge. He has stacks and stacks of sketches in his office, sometimes loosely bound together but often allowed to form into haphazard piles that he eventually leafs through to find an idea he left in the corner of a rough sketch of Nerdanel or one of his sons.

He doesn’t paint, usually. He doesn’t have the patience for oils, preferring to quickly get his ideas down on paper before his roving mind moves onto another one. He often enjoys watercolours, experimenting with bright colour that dries quickly, but today he just wants to sketch.

He is content in this moment. The light of Laurelin is something so bright and warming that he wants to capture it forever. On the grass in front of him, his sons play. A shouting Tyelkormo and Carnistir mob a shrieking Macalaurë, while Maitimo has lifted little Curufinwë up to avoid the flailing limbs.

Fëanáro has done a thousand thousand studies of his sons, but here, in this moment, he thinks that none can be as perfect as the real thing. Of all the things he has crafted and created, none are as perfect as this, his collaborative effort with Nerdanel.

Maitimo turns away from the carnage - Tyelkormo is sat on Macalaurë’s legs while Carnistir is sat on his chest, Macalaurë protesting loudly but without any sort of heat - to approach Fëanáro.

Fëanáro holds his arms out and duly receives his happy toddler. Curufinwë makes himself comfortable immediately in his lap, while Maitimo takes a seat at the table.

“What have you been drawing?” he asks, and Fëanáro pushes some of his papers for him to look at.

“Just quick sketches,” he says, poking one of Curufinwë’s chubby cheeks with a charcoal smudged finger to make him squeal and rub at the mark it leaves. He grins.

Maitimo looks up at him, and his expression makes Fëanáro immediately reach for his charcoal again.

“Hold it!” Fëanáro says. “That face, I need to capture it!”

Maitimo immediately breaks into laughter, but Fëanáro already has the image in his mind, and quickly sketches it roughly.

“You say that about every face I make, Father,” says Maitimo.

In Fëanáro’s lap, little Curufinwë is watching with interest, reaching out for his father’s rapidly moving hand. He grasps a finger when Fëanáro moves close enough, causing a jolted line across the page.

Maitimo covers his mouth with a hand and Fëanáro can see his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. He looks down at Curufinwë, who is grinning happily at him.

“Ah, you think I draw Nelyo too much, hmmm?” he says. He grabs Curufinwë around the waist with both hands, and stands. He throws the laughing toddler up gently into the air, before carefully catching him, smiling at Curufinwë’s breathless giggles.

“Again?” he asks, throwing him up once more. On the grass, Macalaurë is now showing Tyelkormo and Carnistir how to make daisy chains, and all three look up at the noise, before returning to their task.

He turns back to Maitimo who is smiling at him and Curufinwë, chin resting in his hand.

“You’re a bit too big for this now,” he comments to Maitimo as he sits back down, plopping Curufinwë back onto his lap.

Maitimo grins. “Considering I outstripped you in height several years ago, I should say so.”

“True,” says Fëanáro. “Thankfully, this little one is still perfect size for me to toss him!” He pokes Curufinwë’s nose, laughing at the scrunched-up face he makes.

Fëanáro has dedicated his life to the pursuit of perfection. But here, in this moment, he feels that nothing can be more perfect than this.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this, I’m still taking prompts on my tumblr - curufins-smile.tumblr.com


End file.
